Angelica

"There's my girl," she said.

***

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall," Helen said as she gazed at her reflection. A long red dress clung to her curves. Shiny, high heels at her feet matched the color. Helen lovingly referred to them as her "Dorothy" shoes. She had to admit that she looked hot. Damn hot. She tilted her head, checked her hair. It looked great. She looked great.

"I'm the fairest of them all," she decided with a wink at her reflection. Her reflection winked back simultaneously, Helen's sexy doppelganger. She saw no sign of the circles under her eyes this evening; they were carefully hidden away with any other unwelcome baggage.

Tonight, Helen thought. There was no possible way a red-blooded male could turn her down, and she wanted to remind Ken why he had married her. They would go to the fundraiser, have a few drinks, mingle a bit, have a few more drinks, come home, dismiss Angel, maybe have a night cap, and make slow, passionate love until they fell asleep.

When she smiled, the years fell away from Helen's face.

***

After her parents left, Jenny passed some time playing DDR, but she got bored. What she really wanted was for Angelica to come and play. All the games were more fun when other people played, especially when Jenny beat them.

She hit the pause button and made her way into the kitchen. Since Angel had got there, she hadn't left her spot at the kitchen table. She was just sitting there. Doing NOTHING. It made Jenny confused and frustrated. Why wasn't Angel talking to her or playing with her or even watching her? Jenny scooted out a chair and climbed up into it.

"What's wrong, Angel?" she said. Angel gave her a half smile. It didn't fool Jenny.

"Nothing, Jen. Just been thinking," Angel answered.

"Thinking?"

Jenny had found if she repeated words in a questioning way, it encouraged adults to explain themselves. Adults had a way of liking their own words so much, if they heard them repeated, they would ramble on about them. This was a new discovery for Jenny, something she'd picked up at school, but it seemed to work. Even now, Angel was licking her lips to continue.

"We finished off the school year with William Shakespeare. Ever hear about him?" Angel said. Her eyes moved towards Jenny, but Jenny didn't think Angel was looking at her. At the wall or something. Very weird. Jenny always thought that Angel had pretty eyes, but right now, they were kind of creepy.

"Nope."

"Well, he wrote this play called Richard the Third. And Richard, he wanted to be king, so he killed every one that stood in his way."

"He was a bad guy," Jenny opined. Angel didn't say anything. For a moment, the only sound was that of the clock on the wall, ticking away the seconds, flicking them away with a long, skeletal finger.

In truth, the conversation bored Jenny. She had no idea what Angel was talking about. She planned on suggesting a DDR competition, but she didn't want to ruin it by rushing. Jenny had also recently figured out that when you didn't demand things of adults- if you asked for it sweetly and softly and made it seem like there was a choice- they were more likely do what you wanted.

Angel postponed her plans by speaking.

"Let's play a game, Jen."

"Okay!"

"If someone wanted your daddy to love them the most, who would she have to kill? Just like Richard had to kill people to be king, who would someone have to kill to be your daddy's king? Or queen."

Jenny frowned and said, "I don't like that game."

"Come on, sweety. Who does your daddy love the most?"

Jenny didn't hesitate when she blurted, "Me 'n Sam!"

Angel nodded. "Then who?"

"Mommy."

"Then who?"

Jenny shrugged. "Ummmmm... you?"

Angelica smiled, and her lips spread out, revealing two sets of perfect, straight teeth. Jenny remembered when she had braces. She had called Angel, "Choo-choo mouth."

Angel said, "I've got a new game. I read another play by William Shakespeare. Let me tell you about Titus Andronicus."

***

"Wanna get out of here?"

These were the words that Helen had been waiting for, and when Ken leaned in and whispered them, it was music to her ears. Helen flashed her eyes at him, downed her drink, and nodded.

"Let's go," Helen said with a grin. Ken had been snatching lusty glances at her (particularly the cleavage swelling the front of her tight, red dress) all night. Helen knew exactly what was on his mind, and she welcomed the thought.

***

Things might have turned out differently if they hadn't stopped to fool around. As it was Ken felt her hand on his thigh, then on his zipper, and as his penis slithered out of his pants with Helen's assistance, her mouth encased him, and the car eventually made its way down the side of a lonely dirt road to a slow stop.

It had been some time since Helen had used her mouth on him. Ken closed his eyes, leaned back, and relished the feel. Her red lips moved up and down; her tongue lathered him with thick saliva; her hands freed him completely from the restraint of his trousers and caressed his tightening balls.

As good as it felt, he couldn't help comparing it to Angelica's blow jobs.

***

Angelica whistled while she worked. Her face was flecked with bits of blood and gristle. Her smeared hands appeared to be crimson gloves, only the material of these gloves dripped and splattered on the kitchen counter.

She glanced at the clock. Time continued to tick away, but she thought she had enough. Once she had the pies in the oven, she could focus on the clean-up. That would be the longest, hardest part.

Angelica paused, the whistling ending in mid-song, and under her breath, she quoted, "Whereof their mother daintily hath fed, Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred."

The giggle that followed did not sound entirely sane.

***

Helen and Ken moved to the backseat where there was a bit more room to maneuver.

Helen's dress simultaneously pulled high and low, up her thighs and below her breasts respectfully, she ground over Ken's erection, her body moving in slow gyrations. Her panties had been discarded somewhere up front, and she'd probably have trouble finding them later. Ken groaned, the sound somewhat muffled as his mouth was full of her left breast.

She licked her lips and gripped him by the shoulders. She leaned back and began to buck into him, their bodies rippling with impact. Her dress was now nothing but a taut strip of red fabric around her stomach. Her head flung back; her hair swirled around her face.

"Mmmm! MMM! MMMMMM!" Her lips went tight; the sounds of her satisfaction became sensual murmurs.

Helen's entire body trembled, and at the apex of her climax, Ken's thoughts inexplicably went to Angelica. He had fucked a high school GIRL for months when he had this WOMAN, this complex, sexy, beautiful WOMAN sleeping in the same bed as him the entire time. And yet, he'd neglected this woman in favor of a personality-deprived, manufactured, blonde robot.

How many times had he told Angelica that he loved her? How many times had he betrayed his wife and his children's unreserved and undeserved trust in him?

Behind his eyes, Ken watched a mental montage of the many times that he had emptied his seed into and onto Angel. Spraying her stomach, the curves of her ass, her mouth, her face, her tits...his DNA, a part of his essence, released to do nothing more than dry and crust on a slut's skin.

When Helen cried out, her breasts heaving, her pussy squeezing him joyously at the root of his cock, Ken's thoughts were lost in a geyser of erupting cum.

***

The first thing Ken noticed was the smell: a sweet, meaty scent not unlike meatloaf and fresh bread. He hung his coat and dropped the keys on the kitchen counter. Helen shuffled in behind him and sniffed.

"What's that smell?"

The answer sat in the middle of the kitchen table: a pie. A wispy curl of steam snaked up from its center. Ken felt an odd twinge in his stomach. Something about the smell was off, was decidedly wrong. A note seemed to have been wedged under the pie tin. Ken pulled it out, held it.

The note in his hand, Ken felt his heart in his chest and heard his pulse in his ears; the only other sound coming from the house seemed to be the rhythmic ticking of the oven clock. He checked over his shoulder. The kitchen was empty; Helen had gone to check on the kids. The kids... Ken glanced at the pie and then the note in his hand. He could hear Helen's footsteps thumping above his head, upstairs, checking on the children.

Ken unfolded the note. It read:

Soon, there will be no one left. When it's safe, come and get me.

Helen's footsteps started down the stairs. With a sense of dread, Ken folded the note and tucked it into his shirt pocket.

"I can't find the kids," Helen said, breathless. "Do you think Angel took them out? For ice cream or..."

Ken shrugged. His voice sounded flat. The note burned like a hot coal over his heart.

"I don't know. It's late," he said.

Helen crinkled her nose. She was concerned but not panicked. It was too early to panic, Ken thought. But it would hit soon when Angel did not return with the kids in tow.

"That smell," Helen said. "That's not just the pie. Smells like burnt-something."

She opened the oven door and looked inside. That was when the screaming started.

It did not stop for a long time.

~the end~